


Be Strong, Saith my Heart

by Happyvictory29



Category: The Odyssey - Homer, 달의 연인-보보경심 려 | Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/M, odysseus!so, penelope!soo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-27 18:03:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12086412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happyvictory29/pseuds/Happyvictory29
Summary: Ravaged by years of war, leading the front as the king of his country, Wang So makes his way home, but obstacles delay his return and he is left wondering when he'll be in the arms of his wife once more.Meanwhile, Wang So is declared dead by the court officials, but Hae Soo refuses to believe her husband is lost to her. She waits and she rules and is bombarded by princes coming for her hand and a place on the throne.It is a test of their faith and devotion for one another in this tale inspired by Homer's The Odyssey.“There is nothing more admirable than when two people who see eye to eye keep house as man and wife, confounding their enemies and delighting their friends.”





	Be Strong, Saith my Heart

“Your majesty, we will not make it. We have sirens on one side, a creature from the depths fighting to devour us, and in the middle lies a whirlpool. Beyond that are jagged rocks waiting to rip our ship to shreds,” the sailor yelled. His face fearful and hopeless, already giving his last prayers to the merciless gods.

Wang So prayed to a different being, eyes closed in solace, his relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the havoc he would soon endure. _I have made it this far on your love alone, now it is time to give me your strength. I pray you hear my words._

When his eyes opened, a change arose in him. His peace shattered and the broken pieces sired untamed ferocity. His crew knew the look well, shivering at the coldness their king radiated from his place at the helm. “Tell the men to find any beeswax, anything they can put in their ears. We're going the way of the sirens.”

The men scurried at his command, tugging on sails, yanking on ropes, pulling up booms. Their shouts were lost to the howling, screeching wind that surrounded them and held no power to the currents that endeavored to plunge them into darkness. One by one, as each crew member placed beeswax into their ears, the chaos around them lulled to a whisper, until Wang So was left with none.

“Tie me to the mast, as tightly as you may,” So said to his second in command, “But, heed my words, listen to no commands I may shout when I am under the sirens' call and do not release me no matter how I fight against the ropes.”

His crew, with hesitant hands and tense jaws, did as they were told. As they wound the rope around his chest, arms, and legs, so he stood rigid against the post, the vortex they fought against withdrew it's claws. The clouds parted, revealing an azure infinity before them, a long expanse of tranquility striving to bless their journey home. The ship evened on the calmed ocean tides, their cheers frothing like the foam flowing against the keel. It was in that calm that Wang So heard those first notes chiming and drifting with the breeze. Lilting, syrupy, and puckering his lips.

 

_Come, Wang So,_

_king of men, wolf among dogs,_

_bright star on the horizon,_

_and listen to our song_

 

A hunger grew in his heart and he struggled against the ropes, his efforts futile as a slow forming urge told him to get to those maidens, seemingly made of light and dewdrops and poetry. His men, though, with their sight untainted by deaf ears, recoiled at the sight of those demon sirens, with their ragged feathers molting from pocked skin, and faces spoiled by jagged teeth poking from their lips. They shuddered at the bones of discarded ships and their unlucky sailors, at the smell of blood running foul through murky tides.

 

_your daughter grows tall_

_a flower she has become_

_we shall take you_

_to look upon her blossoming face_

 

“Seol,” he called out. “Let me see my Seol!” and he wept. So deeply woven into their song he became – the melody calling forth visions of a babe in his arms, tiny fingers curling into his hair, wide eyes curious and unblinking and adoring – that his fingers brushed against nearby knots and tried with all his dexterity to loosen them. Still, the men steered, fighting to find a path through the rocky terrain peaking through the sea.

 

_your wife, she waits_

_withers without your touch_

_will you stay away_

_even as she beckons you_

 

“SOO-YAH!” he shouted to the wind, his mind no longer his. He was ensnared by the false truths braided in their song, by his memories forcibly awakened – her smile planted in peonies he picked just for her, her fingers and her lips loving scars he loathed to look at, the gleam and sparkle of her eyes as he asked for her hand.

The siren song drew strength from his cries and from their song he found his. He thrashed, jerked, and wrenched, his arms weakening the ropes and pulling them out. His hands pinched, tugged, and wrestled with the bindings, paying no mind to the many hands that tried to keep him in place, to the many yelling at him to get ahold of himself. The rope frayed, the knots fell undone, and bind by bind, they fell from his chest.

Those that could leave their station pressed him into the mast, but they were no match for their king. He ripped their hands away, prying the remaining rope from his legs. When his legs were free, he darted for the side, ready to dive into those murky waters and find release in those promises. He maneuvered through bodies, kicking and blocking those who got in the way, but they clung to his middle, threw themselves onto whatever part of him they could grab, and he trudged on despite their efforts.

“Let me go to my wife and child,” he wailed. “Let me go, you fools, for they are all I need in this life.” But as the last words trailed from his lips, the ship moved beyond the call of the siren and, with his hands curled into wood and ready to launch, Wang So stilled.

“Your majesty?” the second in command asked with trepidation. He searched his king's eyes that blinked in a daze, his pupils contracting and losing their wild compulsion. The fog cleared away and what was left was a clear, piercing brown awakened from stupor. “We should have tied your ropes tighter.”

Wang So shook his head, the last remnants of the chant dripping from him, and he chuckled. “I apologize. I could not imagine their enchantments held such power. Or that I would be able to free myself from being tied.”

“Your Majesty, we have more pressing matters to attend to,” he was told. “A storm is forming on the horizon and I don't know if we have the fortitude to pass clean through.”

Wang So gazed ahead, a clear sky mottled by incoming and rumbling darkness. “If there are no other paths, we will endure.”

 

* * *

 

He clung to the wood that could not support his weight, fighting the crashing waves, the undercurrent, his blood rippling out of new and old wounds. Exhaustion was overtaking his muscles, his eyes, but he fought it. The moment he closed his eyes, the promise he made would be broken and he was not a man to break promises so easily. The sun beat upon his brows, burning his rough-hewn skin. The salt of the water lapped into his mouth and his thirst grew. Scavengers circled overhead, waiting for the meal his already dying flesh promised them.

Over the horizon, as the waves began to calm, as the sky reddened, a mass of land emerged within his sights. It blurred and clouded and he did not know if it was his exhaustion creating an illusion, but he pulled on what little strength he had and kicked his legs towards the hope that lied there. _Do not lose faith, my Soo. I will come back to you._

 

* * *

 

He is aware that he is still in water, but it is not the buoyant, frothing, tempestuous sea he thought he would die in. No, the water warms and soothes him, easing the aches out of his tired body. As his consciousness comes back to him in the slow seconds that passed, he found he no longer wore his robes or had any weapons on him; whoever took him left him naked and vulnerable. He found himself in an unknown room, heavy drapes of crimson blanketed the walls.

But the perfume of the water addled his thoughts and the room warped and spun. He listed what he knew to keep madness from seeping into him.

_I lost my ship and my crew to a rampant storm we could not account for._

_I gave my heart to Hae Soo and she gave her heart to me._

_I have a daughter. Seol. She was a babe when I left. I wonder how she has grown._

_I am somewhere I know not. This place reeks of devilry and wickedness._

Unexpected and from nowhere, hands – soft, unblemished, feminine – caressed his arms, his shoulders, his chest. They pulled him back, pressing him into a warm body, and dipped below the waters surface to discover more. He stopped them, pushing away and throwing them aside. He splashed as he spun to capture the one who would dare defile him, but she slipped from him with ease. A throaty chuckle left her lips at the attempt.

The woman emanated a calm allure, her eyes filled with bold and unwavering desire, and she hummed a melody, strange and woven with enchantment. The song fluttered in the air between him. It bobbed and twirled and coiled, reaching his ears and dipping inside of him. His eyes drooped, peace filling him as her fingers skimmed over his lips. Her song strengthened and the peace within him turned ravenous. She glided into his lap, straddling him but not yet taking him. Despite the protests of his mind, his hands grabbed at and roamed over the slick and supple skin, so unlike his rough, war-torn body. “Yes, Wang So,” she whispered, dark and husky as she ran her tongue along the length of his neck. A moan escaped from him and he hardened; for her, losing to her, and compelled by charms he knew not. “Come.”

Her lips began their descent and he was ready to lose himself in the touch, in the scent, in the taste of a woman. It had been long since he had felt the softness of lips on his, had tasted mint lingering on tongues, had smelled peonies on delicate skin. So long since he had buried himself, indulged himself within Hae Soo.

But it wasn't Hae Soo. The face of his beloved floated through the haze, combating with the face in front of him. The spell she wrought broke and the fog in his mind lifted. He shoved her off and took her throat in his hands. “Who are you, enchantress?”

Fear entered her eyes as his grasp tightened, locking out the air around her. Her creamy skin tinged with purple, the blue veins popping out violently. “Yeon Hwa,” she choked and he let her go. She sloshed around in the bath, gagging and sputtering as she got the air she had desperately wanted. “I am the one who saved you from the sea's cold embrace. I am Yeon Hwa,” she said, “sorceress and mistress of this isle.”

“You know who I am,” he stated.

“I know all kings.” She traced the scar over his left eye and he recoiled. She smirked, a gruff and throaty chortle escaping her. Her confidence back. “And I know you, Wang So. There are few who have not heard of your ascent to the throne, your cunning, your vengeance, your ferocity.”

“It seems you have not heard of my one and only queen,” he growled. “If you wish to live, you will not try to seduce me with your charms again, witch.” He rose to leave, but she grabbed his arm and he halted.

“Wait,” she pleaded. “I can show her to you.” He narrowed his eyes, sure it was another trick. “I have prophesied your arrival just as I have prophesied her false heart and growing deceit.”

“Be careful of what you say,” he warned.

She cackled. “As your kingdom mourns your death, your queen takes comfort in the men who come for her hand. Her appetite is voracious and her loins cannot be satisfied.”

He clenched his fists, fighting to control his wrath. “You lie. My Soo's heart is true and good.”

“I do not.” She waved her hand over the still water and within it conjured the image of Hae Soo. She laughed and smiled. Though there was no sound, he could summon the bells of her laughter. A sound he knew even in the most intimate of settings. How many years had it been since he saw her face, bright and loving, before him. His gaze softened with ardor and longing stabbed him in the gut. As his fingers hovered over the illusion, her warmth of her eyes was lost to him, blocked by a masculine body nearing her, caressing her in a way only he had the right to do.

“Soo-yah,” he shouted, his hands splashing and dispelling her image, her face rippling and fading from him. “Show me again, cruel creature.”

“Ah, ah, ah.” She waggled her finger at him. “You must earn your keep, your majesty.” She leaned back in the tub, displaying herself, inviting him to devour her.

 

* * *

 

In his dreams, he held his child high in sky, circling her round and round as her delighted shrieks pierced through the skies. His wife trailed behind, plucking seashells from the sand and rocks smoothed from the crash of the ocean waves. They would settle on the beach, a feast laid out before them, and Soo would place a crown of shells on his head and he would pull her in for a languid kiss. Their daughter would squeal, “ew, kisses!” and they would chase her down the beach until their arms wrapped around her small body and they showered her with kisses.

And he would wake.

To Yeon Hwa's naked form pressed into his back, her legs intertwined with his, her arms wrapped around his torso, and her face nuzzling into the crook of his neck. The scent of her – pungent and cajoling – reminded him that his dreams were too far from his reach.

He sat up, his head hanging low, filled with an exhaustion that had nothing to do with how much sleep he received. Yeon Hwa stirred and she ran her hands over his clothed back, massaged his shoulders and neck. She nibbled at the lobe of his ear, and whispered, husky and desirous, into his ear. 

“How many more days and nights will I be denied, your majesty?” She slipped off the bed, coming around to his front. “Lay with me in this bed of love, lay your faith and trust in me.”

She took his hand and guided it down the flat of her stomach, a soft moan leaving her lips as his fingers brushed against the fluff of hair near her center. He wrenched his hand away, he didn't dare give her the satisfaction, and pushed her away without looking at her. “Every night you come to me with an expectation that I will give in and bed you. And every night you will be disappointed.”

And he left, imprisoned no matter where his feet may take him.

 

* * *

 

The days stretched into weeks, into months, until time scattered from him. All he came to know was the slow rise of the sun in the east, the squelching heat as it passed over him, and its calm descent into the sea in the west. It was all he could rely on to know time still moved onward. He tried many times to escape Yeon Hwa's isle, her failed efforts to tempt him, her sorcery. But she was everywhere and nowhere at once, relying on the animals of her small kingdom to be her eyes and her ears.

The time spent there made him a bitter man, as Yeon Hwa dispelled any good memories he may have once had, spoiling them with talk of a daughter who believed she had no father and a wife who bedded man after man in search of an equal with which she could rule. He had begged for more visions of his family, but every one seemed to confirm the tales the sorceress told him and, bit by bit, he lost the will to ask. To quell the fire of his jealousy, of a grievous betrayal, of his chance for revenge right at his fingertips, he walked until exhaustion brought him back to his palatial prison. It was in that exhaustion he found he could deter, once more, Yeon Hwa's advances and his desires.

On one afternoon of wandering, he found an axe half-buried on the beach, the sun glinting off the metal and catching his eye. It was weighty in his hand, the handle smooth from the sands brushing upon it day after day, but the blade was dull and could not even pierce the skin of his thumb when he tested it. With the axe in hand and resting on his shoulder, he combed the shore for flat, smooth rocks to sharpen it with.

He rested along the shore with the rocks he had accumulated, the tide brushing across his toes, not quite reaching the heels of his feet before ebbing away from him. He wetted a rock and lost himself in the repetitious nature of sharpening the axe. Slow, angled, and circular motions on one side, then flip to the other side, then again until the dulled edge found renewed life.

He raised himself up when the tide swept up the sides of his knees, and, for the first time, did not make his way back to Yeon Hwa's castle, with all its luxuries and the food waiting to fill his growling stomach. Instead, he found a place along the edge of the thicket, creating a makeshift shelter from large fronds, and fallen trunks. Just enough to cover him for the night and to gaze at the stars above.

He fell asleep to a memory – Soo rocking a bassinet, the stories behind the stars drifting down from her lips and towards the gurgling babe inside – and to the persistent ache of his heart.

He awoke to the first rosy light of dawn, the tinge of heat the sun brought kissing his cheeks. His muscles were stiff, tensed from a night of shivering without plush blankets or pillows to cushion his slumber, but he didn't mind it. He was grateful to it, for no one had come to him in the middle of the night seeking out cheap satisfaction. He was alone and, for once, his mind became un-bogged by the weight of his predicament.

He spent his days chopping wood, building a small shelter, and gathering supplies to create a raft. He tracked the days by the stubble that grew on his face, by the red tinge left by the sun becoming a light tan, by the way his muscles regained their definition and tone. He would explore the offerings of the small isle; finding fruit and letting their juice run down his chin, foraging for herbs and edible plants that Soo had taught him to recognize so long ago, spearing fish in small lagoons and taking up any shellfish he happened upon.

It was a freedom he hadn't felt since he was a young man in love with a young woman, before the crown, before the war, before the island. He could go where he wanted, sleep until the sun was in the middle of the sky, gaze at the sea and dream of what lay beyond.

But for all the freedom he felt, he knew it was a farce. The mornings delivered the acidic bite of his wife's unfaithfulness, at the possibility of it, at her willingness to forget him as his death was flaunted before her. The afternoons gutted him with images of his grown child finding paternal solace in whomever her mother had chosen to give her heart to in the years he'd been gone. And the evenings gushed oceans from his eyes because for all the hurt, the supposed betrayals, and the rage formed from his disheartening journey, he could not stop the yearning of his heart.

Worse, still, was the unavoidable presence of Yeon Hwa in her ravens that circled over him, watching him, and returning to give reports to their mistress. In the castle that loomed in the background, towering and stark white against the lush green of the mountain. In the large predators that stalked him, their eyes a window for her to peer through. At night, he could see her silhouette punctured against the soft glow of the candlelight, waiting for him to return but he never did. He could not fathom why she stayed away, knowing that only a few enchanted songs from her lips would chain him to her forever.

It took her two months to leave her tower and go to him.

He rested underneath a palm tree, sweat giving his skin a lustrous glow, sand clinging between the gnarled strands of his beard, his hair long and slick and sullied by the ocean water and air. He heard the quick muffled strides of her feet, her dress dragging through the sand and tripping her up. “I'm sure you have something important to tell me since you've managed to make it all the way down here,” he said, eyes still closed and body humming.

“You would rather stay out here in the sand and the dirt eating scraps you find from the brush and the sea rather than live in the accommodations I have provided for you?” He could hear the restraint behind clenched teeth.

“Is that all you want to know?”

“Am I not a woman?” The smallness in her voice caused him to open his eyes and he looked at her in the bright sunlight. In her castle, amongst the shadows and the candlelight, she gave off an air of mysticism, of constant pervasiveness, of dominance. But, out here, without her walls, she seemed wrong with her fists clenched into her lavish robes, with her too pale skin blinding him, with doubt stooped into her usual rigid stance. “Am I not far more beautiful and more impressive than your Hae Soo? Am I not more worthy of your touch and your love than her?”

He stood before her and her lowered, calculated gaze missed the pity that flashed across his face before he erased all emotions from his visage.

“There is no doubt in me. You are more beautiful than my Hae Soo. Strong men tremble after one gaze, one touch, one word from your crimson lips.” She smirked, eyes rising to meet his, both knowing and luring, and her smallness rising to staggering heights. “You are more powerful. It crackles at your fingertips and armies cower before the strength of your magic.” She sauntered to him, until she was pressed against his chest, her arms raising to claim him. “You are more cunning, more ambitious, more assertive.” Her fingers swept over his lips and he stood firm before her, never flinching from her touch. He lowered his face, his breath brushing against her ear and she shivered from her want of him. “But my heart is not moved by such things.”

She froze as he stepped away from her, her eyes becoming dangerous and filling with thunder. “What?”

“You may be many things, Yeon Hwa, but you are not my Soo. And I am not your person. Remember that.”

He stormed from her but she was not willing to let him go and grappled with him to stay within her grasp. “If I am able to make men cower before me, a strong man tremble at my touch, what kind of man does that make you?”

His gaze matched hers, menacing, blazing, surging. “It makes me a devout husband who has known a kind and passionate love.”

Her grip on him loosened, her mouth opening and closing as though he had stolen the words from her. He whipped his arm away, leaving her to gape at his retreating back.

The stars were beginning to dot the sky when she appeared before him again and the fury in her eyes had not lessened in the time that had passed. He sighed, waiting for her to chain him to her or to magic him into an animal, but it was not spells that escaped her mouth.

“I will help you find your way home,” she scowled. His gaze snatched upward, trying to search for truth in the light that lingered on them, but she avoided looking at him.

“You would do such a thing?”

“Do not think my help comes without consequences. There is a price to pay, your majesty.”

 

* * *

 

“What is it you mean to do?”

He sat in an enclave, with potions and concoctions lining the walls in hues of green, milky whites, jeweled purples, and fired reds. Books were stacked in all corners, many of them inscribed with symbols and characters he did not recognize, all of them ancient, dusty, and forbidding.

“I will summon a guide of sorts,” she sighed, her hands and eyes busy with preparations. “How it comes to you, I do not get to decide, but it will be of one familiar to you, one who has given protection and counsel and seeks your help in return.”

She laid out milk and honey, wine, water, and white barley, pouring them one after the other into a large plain wooden goblet. With a snap, she sparked the concoction, heating it through. Her hands waved over it as an ominous and heathened chant whispered from her lips. The words dove into the goblet, bubbling the offering and, from it, a heady scent drove into the air. Its fumes coiled and curled and snaked. It slipped into his nostrils, seeped into his skin, and stole the breathe from inside him.

“W-wha-” he tried to ask, but Yeon Hwa glistened, hazed, and waned from his sight. There and not. Only her chant remained as the room seized around him, clawing at his arms and snaring his feet and swallowing him into the shadows bit by bit. And he slumped, his consciousness succumbing to the encroaching darkness.

 

_Yellow eyes gleamed at him in the black beyond the flickering and pulsing light of his kindling. He counted ten pairs of eyes, all accompanied by a subdued rumble, biting snarls, a soft scuffling of leaves as they stalked him, their prey._

_His foe came forth from the shadows. The wolf tilted her head, the light rippling through her fur, her tongue licking her chops. His fear took him backwards, scrambling until he hit the scratchy bark of a fallen and rotting log. “Please,” he whispered, “please, spare me. I only wish to live.”_

“ _Do not fear me, my king.” Her voice did not seem to come from her but echoed and vibrated inside of him. “This is not a memory nor is it a dream.”_

_Her words awakened a different part of him. His consciousness emerging from the depths, becoming aware that he was both sleeping and not, that he was both the young, starved, and abandoned boy when first he met these wolves and the hardened, war-torn man separated from those he loved. “Am I dead?”_

_Her laugh rolled through him. “You have not yet left the light of day, my son. It will be many years before you reach that sad place.”_

“ _Then, she-wolf, why have you come to me?”_

“ _Many years have passed since you left your home.”_

_He pushed himself forward, his hands reaching deep into the fur, feeling for her breath of life. “Tell me. Tell me what has become of my wife, my daughter, the kingdom I fought so hard to win.”_

“ _Your daughter will soon reach her nineteenth birthday, many see what a flower she has become, but she is prickly. Thorns dig deep into those who seek her hand or more. She is not a challenge easily surpassed and will one day hold the deeds to your kingdom._

“ _Your wife spends her days in distress and her nights in tears. She is full of strength, but there are those with influence that seek to overpower her. They have invaded your palace, pillaging your lands, devouring your provisions, seeking a warm place to lay with the women of your household.”_

“ _What shall you have me do?”_

“ _Come home and take back what is rightfully yours. Purge these fiends. Save my kind and yours, Wang So.” Her voice was panicked, matched in the quiver of her eyes, the fast pant against his hands. “Seek the favorable wind in five days time. It will catch in your sail and take you straight home. There you will come upon a young man, a shepherd dusted with charcoal and dyes from the art he creates. Befriend him and he shall show you kindness in return.” She backed from him, siphoning his warmth. Shivers trailed his spine as the shadows engulfed her, nothing but her eyes peering out at him once again. Her voice was but a whisper when she spoke again. “Come home, Wang So.”_

 

He startled awake with a deep inhale, his lungs gasping for air like it had been choked out of him. The cold marble floor stuck to his cheek, and he groaned as he lifted himself. The room stank of thick magic, stale and burnt. His head throbbed, an intense pain lodging behind his eyes and another pounding his thoughts to mush. He swayed as he stood, his legs too wooden and heavy to maintain his weight and he clawed at the wall for support, determined to go but not sure where he was leading himself to.

No longer able to ignore his staggering step, Yeon Hwa wrapped his arm around her shoulder and hers around his waist to steer him into a bed. He wanted to protest, but he couldn't manage the bulk of his tongue and let her lead him. She only huffed and grimaced every time he tripped over nothing. He flopped onto the bed and she tucked him under the blankets, with the softness of a mother looking over her sick child. She waved her hand over him and whispered a word or two, warmth flooding through his veins as she spoke.

“Sleep,” she said. He blinked in thanks, the heat sending him into a drowse and easing his pains.

He woke recalling the summoning, the she-wolf that granted him favor when he had been abandoned as an adolescent coming to him in the depths of his mind, with her eyes full of a fear he'd never seen in her before, pleading for him to come back. He darted from the bed, his body free of aches and the full strength of his muscles regained. Yeon Hwa's voice stopped him before he reached the door. He turned to see her lounging in the bay of the window, her gaze turned toward the rolling ocean and her fingers curling through the ends of her tresses.

“You will not get far with that sad excuse for a raft you built. As soon as you go beyond the reef, the waves will flip you over and you will find yourself back on the stretch of beach I first found you on.”

“And how do you suggest I leave? It is you who offered your help, not I who sought it out.”

“I suppose I did,” she sighed. Her arms crossed over her chest, her gaze slow in turning to him, her legs unfurling and rooting to the floor. A picture of petulance. “I have a boat.”

 

The boat was small, wooden, enough room for a month's worth of food and a small mast he could attach a sail to. He examined the small vessel, old and worn, a few holes he would need to patch but, otherwise, no rot or major damage. It would provide no cover from the sun and he saw that he could easily die of heat exhaustion and dehydration before he even reached the shores of his home.

“It will do.”

Yeon Hwa leaned against a palm, droplets of sweat puckering her brow and her eyes set firmly on the horizon. “I will provide your sail, but I will not help you gather any supplies. I'm sure you can manage on your own.”

She pushed herself from the tree, trudging through and sand clinging to the long folds of her skirt. “Why did you change your mind?” he asked. She stilled. “You've kept me here for years, every day trying to steer me from my wife and into your arms, and, yet, you've decided to help me leave?”

Her fists clenched by her side, her shoulders twitching, but she did not turn around. Her voice was laced with bitterness. “Let's just say the gods implored me to do so.”

He said no more to her retreating back, only gathering himself to the work ahead of him when she was but a dot on the landscape.

He raided Yeon Hwa's stores, gathering dried fruits, leathered meats, and ropes. He went inland for fresh water and filled the pouches he took, as much as he thought he would need and could stow in the small boat. He gathered coconuts and shred them of their tough outer exterior, found bits of aloe for the burns he knew he'd get sailing under the sun, and reaped the island of the vegetation it offered him. He thought only of what had to be done, not allowing his thoughts to wander to the what if's of what lay waiting for him back home. He just let his fingers sew the patches in the sail given to him, his hands repair the patches, his mind create lists and schedules for rationing his food and water and when to sail and when to rest. There was no place left in his mind for those creeping thoughts to take root. 

The morning of his departure came and Yeon Hwa with it.

“Do you still wish to leave this place?” He continued packing the boat, only pausing to wipe the sweat forming on his brow. She huffed, imploring him one last time. “She betrayed you. You can still stay with me. Will you really leave me?”

He stopped and sighed. “I do not belong here. And I do not belong with you. You know this as much as I.”

“Fine, then I shall take my payment,” she sneered.

She snapped her fingers, the sound cracking and thunderous through the air. In an instant, sharp pains sliced through his chest and blinded him, his limbs burned as though being stretched beyond their capacity, his organs writhed and mangled inside him. He crumpled, unable to withstand the searing agony as tortured wails escaped him. But as fast as the pain had come, it left him just as swiftly. With him lying ragged at her feet, a look of triumph passed over her.

“What did you do?” he rasped, but it was not a voice he recognized. The octave was higher, wheezy, more nasally than what he knew.

Yeon Hwa summoned a mirror with a flick of the wrist and cackled as she turned it to him. He didn't understand, at first, why a weary old man stared back at him, both confused and curious. But as he reached towards the image, and the man reached back, as his eyes focused on the hand he brought forward with crackled skin speckled with liver spots, he understood. He was the old man. With a shaking hand, he touched his face, explored the leathery texture of the sagging skin of a face that was not his. His hair was long, wispy, bedraggled and grey. He moved closer to the mirror, feeling the creak in his joints, the slowness of his movements. The only thing he recognized was his eyes, still clear and brown and untouched.

Yeon Hwa leaned down over him, his height cut off and stooped so that he could only look up at her. “This is my price.”

He lunged at her, his arms reaching to grasp at her neck, but she only took a step back. He no longer had his quick reflexes and couldn't catch her or himself. His mouth filled with sand when he fell. He spat it from his mouth and punched the ground with his fist. He turned, glowering at her. “How can I go home looking like this?”

She crouched next to him, pouting as her hand came to cup his cheek. “Oh, Wang So – ” he jerked from her touch “– it's simple, really. When your beloved Hae Soo looks into your eyes with full recognition, and there can be no doubts clouding her vision, says 'you've come home to me,' and finishes it with a kiss then – poof – you'll be you again.”

“Then I'll tell her tha – ”

He was cut off by her deep, throaty chuckle. “Would I make it that easy? There's a catch, Wang So. You will not be able to tell her that you are you, in any way. You'll choke to death before you get it out. If you write it out, she'll see nothing but gibberish. If you try to get someone else to tell her, the skies will strike them down.”

She ran her finger down the bridge of his nose and grabbed his chin, her nails digging into his skin. Her smile was slick with venom, her eyes brimming with jubilation at having the upper hand. “No, no, your majesty, she must figure it out on her own. And, if she really, absolutely, and truly loves you the way you believe she does, then you shouldn't have a problem. If not, you can stay like that and let the old age eat at you until you die a lonely death a couple years from now or you can sail all the way back here and I'll turn you back into the man you were. Once you do come back, though, you'll never be able to leave again.”

“I won't have a need to come back to these shores.”

Her lips curled, nostrils flaring. and shoved his face away from her, his neck almost snapping from the force of it. “Then go,” she said, her glassy eyes betraying her sadness. “See how far your faith gets you.”

 

Setting off took longer than he had originally planned. His brittle bones paired with limp and ineffective muscles wobbled and he struggled to push the boat into the water, to raise the sail, to tighten the knots in the rope, but he did it. The first of the waves poured over him, his timing and pull of the rudder off. The second and the third and the fourth tested the limits of the strength and the patches on the sides. But once he was on the open water, with the wind's aid, with nothing but the horizon and the pull of his longing to guide him, the path home became clearer. The island sank into the sea behind him, every day falling further into its depth until nothing left remained of it. Just the ocean laid around him and hope trailed before him.

But, after several weeks of blue sky melting into blue ocean, his supplies became sparse. Only a few drinks of fresh water remained and he failed at rationing his food properly during the journey. The body Yeon Hwa gave him was weaker than he initially imagined, thirsting and hungering for more than he would have allowed when he was at peak condition. The old age robbed him of his self-control and patience, devouring and drinking whenever his body demanded it.

With pangs of hunger eating away at him, Wang So opened his mind to the thoughts of the family he would soon see, trying to regain back the motivation he carried at the beginning of his journey. He wondered what his small daughter had grown to be. He left her chubby cheeked and toddling, just learning to call out to him in fragmented syllables. She had to be late in her teenage years by now.

Even his Hae Soo would be changed. He tried to picture her face, with soft wrinkles by her eyes, by the corners of her lips, and etched in her forehead. Maybe, now, her long black hair was sprinkled with strands of gray and thinner. But the image of her was blurry, warped by too many years of distance and hurt and, possibly, lies. Years gone that he would never get back.

The thought struck through him, all his drive to go home evaporating, those seeds that had planted themselves finally worming their way to the surface. He would go home a different man, a stranger, and his family would be strangers to him as well. Would they recognize him? See beyond the guise of the old man he had become? If they did, would they still want him? Did they really think him dead and moved on? Would going home ruin the lives they had built without him? His world would crumble as he saw how their love and devotion for him had dwindled into nothing, looking at him with uncaring eyes, and leaving him to die as an unloved and lonely old man just as Yeon Hwa had predicted.

The lapping water was all the sound he heard, coupled with the growls of his stomach. He closed the sail, laid himself out in the boat and let the dread petrify him. But even though he felt stoppered, too afraid to continue on, the sun still moved, Apollo riding his chariot across the sky and Selene still rising with the moon to meet her lover. The stars peaked out one by one and he could almost hear their whispers, giddy as the twinkled in play above him.

“Shall I tell you a story?” he wheezed out. One star above winked at him in affirmation and he began. “There was a boy, hardened and scorned and feared. No one dared to go near him and, if they did, they quivered in his presence. He was protected by the guardians of the kingdom, the wolves. They were his family and his only solace in the world.

“And, of course, there was a girl.” His next words were spoken carefully, with admiration, his fingers reaching into the sky and tracing the shape of them into the constellations. “She was the brightest star in the whole of the kingdom but greatly underestimated. The bottoms of her skirts were always sullied, her hair always in disarray, and always with an argument on the tip of her tongue. She was a fighter of justice and had a penchant for getting into trouble for she would never back down once challenged. She never sought out help but was always willing to give her hand to those in need. She was not the most beautiful, but she was the kindest.

“When the boy met the girl, he was intrigued by her, by the easy way she argued with him, not caring for the wolves that growled at her. She was only offended and outraged when he would smirk and walk away from her mid-sentence. She would chase after him and hold him accountable for his words and his actions. But as sharp as her words were to him, none of them were cruel, only honest and willful.

“It wasn't long before he noticed the way the sun caught in her hair or the permanent sparkle of her eye or how the melody of her laughter felt more and more like home to him. And she couldn't ignore the way his arm always caught her when she stumbled or the way his rare smile sent her heart racing or how she found herself drawn in his direction, never able to stay away from him for too long despite the protests of others. And little by little he fell in love with her and the friendship she offered.”

A sad smile crossed his face, at the memories long gone. “One day, I asked her to meet me underneath the boughs of a large oak tree. I can still remember the way she bit her lip, looking at me with unsure eyes. She was always so close and so faraway in those days, afraid of where her heart was taking her. I was sure, of her and of my heart. She did meet me, though, and it was there I confessed to her. It was where she would confess to me and kiss for the first time. It was where I proposed and where we gave our whole hearts and” – he chuckled – “bodies to one another. It was there I built us a house, the tree rooted at the heart of our family home.”

He sighed and the heavens sighed with him. His eyes felt heavy, exhausted from starving, from dehydration, from hopelessness. He let himself be taken in by the embrace of sleep, the last words on his lips murmured to no one. “Such a silly tale.”

The stars whispered to him as he slept, the guardians of the heavens singing sweetly to him, reassuring him, placating him. _They long for you as you long for them. Trust in them as they have trust in you._ The currents drifted him across the ocean, taking him closer to his destination since he did not, could not.

When he woke, his heart and mind felt lighter. Nothing in his life had ever come easy, but he had been strong and devoted and true. To give up, now, would be a disservice and he would persevere no matter what troubles he found. And, as he sat up, he saw the horizon before him was punctured with rolling mounds of land, with villages nestled in-between. He knew, without a doubt, that just over those hills, just at the base of it, was his palace, that oak tree rooted at the heart of it, a symbol of an immoveable love. He shed tears of relief, of gratitude that he had finally been granted favor.

 _He was home_.

 

 

 


End file.
